


The Sky's the Limit

by samanthahirr



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), American Idol RPF, Kris Allen (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Actors, Community: kradam_kiss, Crack, First Kiss, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-25
Updated: 2010-10-25
Packaged: 2017-10-12 21:33:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/129306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samanthahirr/pseuds/samanthahirr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Romantic movie kisses weren't as romantic in real life. All the big-screen glamour was a trick of the editing room—the actual filming was repetitive, impersonal, and boring. Especially when you were overtired, underpaid, and fed up with the bitchy, no-name director who thought he was the next Scorsese.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sky's the Limit

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [**kradam_kiss**](http://community.livejournal.com/kradam_kiss/). This fills [**moirariordan**](http://moirariordan.livejournal.com/)'s prompt [here](http://community.livejournal.com/kradam_kiss/88441.html?thread=3977593#t3977593). No beta this time—mistakes are all mine!

Romantic movie kisses weren't as romantic in real life. All the big-screen glamour was a trick of the editing room—the actual filming was repetitive, impersonal, and boring. Especially when you were overtired, underpaid, and fed up with the bitchy, no-name director who thought he was the next Scorsese.

Maybe it was different for A-listers. Clark Gable probably fucking loved bending Vivien Leigh over his arm for the iconic clinch in _Gone with the Wind_. And Geena Davis probably had wet dreams every night remembering making out with Brad Pitt while filming _Thelma and Louise_.

But _The Sky's the Limit_ was an independent, low-budget romantic comedy, not some grand epic that would own the box office for infinity. And even if his costar was the hottest thing since Joshua Jackson lost his baby fat, it didn't mean that the twenty-seventh take of their first kiss was going to be any less agonizing.

Adam sighed and pulled his gaze away from the craft services table. It was 2 p.m., he hadn't eaten since breakfast, but even _he_ knew better than to film a kiss with garlic-breath.

His too-perfect-to-be-real costar didn't share his consideration. "Hey, you psyched to get started?" Kris Allen asked, smacking Adam's arm with the hand that wasn't busy clutching a buffalo wing.

Adam sighed some more and did _not_ watch Kris wipe the sticky sauce off his chin and lick it off his fingers. Honestly, there'd been less sexual harassment at Jordan's studio, and why had he ever thought breaking into mainstream films was a good idea?

"Thrilled," he muttered. His stomach growled at the smell of barbeque sauce, and he told it to shut up.

"I'm Kris," Kris said, thrusting his clean hand out to Adam.

As if Adam hadn't rewatched the five Kris Allen films in his DVD collection when he'd seen the final casting sheet. As if he hadn't spent his first week of filming listening to the makeup girls coo excitedly about what day Kris Allen would fly in from Vancouver to start principal photography. As if he hadn't guessed by the way the assistants circled and fawned the second he'd appeared on set that morning.

"Adam Lambert," he answered, because people had to start learning his real name eventually.

"Adam," Kris nodded, smiling and shaking his hand. "Great. So uh, you don't sound too excited about today."

"Yeah, well," Adam jerked his chin toward the empty director's chair, "if you'd spent the last week doing take after take for that indecisive asshole, neither would you."

Kris nodded, but kept smiling that devastatingly brilliant smile. "Still, though, at least it's a _good_ scene."

Adam snorted. Had Kris even _read_ the script? "Sure," he said.

"Okay, cheesy dialogue and lame setup aside, it's a good moment. Max and Joey's first kiss."

Adam rolled his eyes, refusing to be cajoled out of the jaded-movie-star persona he'd adopted. "Tell me if you still feel the same on the hundredth take." He turned away, eyeing the catering table again. If Kris didn't give a fuck about good-kissing etiquette, why should Adam?

"It's not gonna take a hundred takes."

"Yeah, that's what my last director said," Adam drawled. "So far, he and this guy seem to have a lot in common."

Kris gave a lazy shrug and bit another strip of chicken off the bone. "Whatever, it'll still be awesome. Kissing is kissing. I'm not seeing the downside."

Neither had Adam, until he'd filmed his first "real" movie a few months ago. Two tubes of lip balm and a stiff neck later, the director had finally canned what felt like the worst kiss of Adam's life. And when Adam had seen the dailies, he'd wanted to run back to Jordan's studio and beg for his old job back.

"Oh," Kris said, apparently reading a lot of that off Adam's grim face. "Bad experience, huh?"

"Understatement."

"But they weren't _all_ bad, right? I mean, you must've dated _some_ good kissers." The misplaced sympathy and concern on Kris's face was downright insulting.

"What? No! I'm talking about on-screen. I've dated _lots_ of great kissers. Fuck, _I'm_ a great kisser."

"But you've done movies—"

"We don't exactly shoot a lot of kisses in porn," he snapped.

Kris's eyes widened comically and Adam nearly slapped a hand over his traitorous mouth. Fuck! He'd been so careful all week, and then he had to blurt it to his costar the first time he met him…what the fuck was _wrong_ with him? And now Kris Allen, B-list rom-com prince, was _laughing_ at him.

Adam's spine stiffened, and he was thinking pretty hard about making a dignified retreat to the makeup trailer, when Kris paused between cackles and wheezed, "Oh my god, your _face_ , man! That's amazing!"

Adam blinked.

"Oh my god, that's the _perfect_ humiliation-face. You've gotta do it exactly like that in scene 92. Christ, that was funny."

Adam blinked some more and straightened the cuff of his uniform, but he didn't walk away. Kris Allen was complimenting him? Seriously?

Kris gave a few more chuckles before looking up with a big, title-credits smile. "You're gonna be way too fun to work with."

"Um," Adam said, fumbling for his next line. He hadn't expected Kris to be _nice_.

"And whoever your costar was last time was doing it wrong. The kissing's totally the best part."

"If you say so."

"I do. Hey, really." Kris put his hand on Adam's forearm and gave a small squeeze. "Stop freaking out. It's gonna be awesome."

Adam flushed and tried to pull his arm away. He didn't want to look like an asshole, but Kris Allen thinking he had stage fright was possibly worse than laughing at him for being a former-porn star. This whole situation was getting out of hand; he needed to regroup, get his mojo back.

Of course Kris held on to his arm, sincere brown eyes blinking up at him. "I'll make sure it's great," he said, with all the confidence and self-assurance of an experienced film idol. "Don't worry about it."

"I'm not worried," Adam gritted. " _I'll_ be fine." And he totally sounded like an asshole. Fuck his ego for being so defensive all the time. Kris was trying to be supportive for Pete's sake.

"Okay, guys, we're rolling in five," Melissa announced, breezing past with her continuity notebook. Ten paces away, she turned on her heel and marched back to them. "Kris, what happened to your mouth? Have you been _eating_? Crap, get back to makeup, go, go!"

Kris gave Adam a sheepish shrug and jogged off the set.

Melissa's eyes raked over Adam's face and hands before she smiled and brushed some lint off the front of his jacket. " _You're_ perfect," she announced, giving him a fond, satisfactory nod. "Wait right here. We'll start as soon as Kris gets back."

It took nearly ten minutes for the makeup team to fix the damage caused by the buffalo wings, but when Kris finally bounced onto the set, the director didn't say a word to him about it. Adam tried not to stare as Kris took his seat in the partial cabin of the airplane, looking every bit the dreamy, steamy star he was.

And Adam was going to get to kiss _him_?

Adam cleared his throat and stepped behind the door of the plane's cockpit. _Cock Pit_ , his brain supplied helpfully, as if the setup for this scene wasn't already trashier than half the pornos he'd ever been in…and he'd been in a lot.

"Action!" Luke yelled into his megaphone. The lights in the studio dimmed, the electronic clapboard beeped, the mechanical lift started shaking the set, and Adam ripped open the cockpit door and stumbled out into the cabin.

"Captain Hawkins!" First Flight Attendant gasped. "What's going on!"

"We've lost the engines and we're going down. Get everybody into crash positions," he snapped, his eyes scanning the chaos in the main cabin: oxygen masks deployed, eight frantic passengers grabbing for them and stringing them on. Except one.

"Put your mask on," Adam said gruffly to aspiring comic book artist Joey Dale, seated in the first row.

"Captain," Kris said, fumbling out of his seatbelt and standing up to grab the pilot's jacket. "Are we gonna die?"

Adam flared his nostrils heroically and said, with all the conviction he had, "Not on my watch." Kris visibly melted with relief and gratitude, and Adam tried to push the passenger back into his seat so he could get back to flying—or crashing—the plane, but the man wouldn't be moved.

"Captain," Kris gasped again, looking up at him with a desperation born of imminent danger.

Adam took a deep breath and leaned down, pulled Kris against him and crushed his lips over the shorter man's, one hand grabbing for the chair-back as the set rocked even more violently. And Kris—god love him, Kris's knees actually went weak, his body sagging against Adam's as he opened his mouth and clung, lips vulnerable and soft and so, so sweet.

Adam ignored the traces of powdered concealer he could taste at the corner of Kris's mouth, the all-too-familiar lip balm, and the fake screams of the actors and actresses around them. With all that nonsense shoved aside, this was the best first kiss he'd ever had—the kind he'd seen in movies, but never believed could be real. People didn't just _fit_ like this; that was all just the magic of Hollywood.

The shiver of Kris's body in his arms said otherwise, and Adam tilted his head to the side to open Kris's mouth up wider, to take it further.

"Cut!" Luke screamed.

The lights came up, the platform stopped shaking, and Adam reluctantly let Kris go.

"Shelly, Shelly," Melissa called, running onto the set and cornering the First Flight Attendant. "Your scarf should be tied to the right, not the left. Hold on," and the continuity director grabbed the silk scarf around Shelly's neck and wrenched it viciously to the side. With a hmph, she glanced down at her notebook, glanced back up at the scarf, and then waved to Luke. "Okay, we're good to go."

"Reset, everybody!" Luke shouted, and the passengers started straightening their clothes and lowering their drink trays.

"So, how was it?" Kris asked, sounding cool and collected as he straightened Adam's lapels for him.

"It was fine," Adam said, smoothing his hair back into place before brushing some imaginary dirt off Kris's forehead.

"Really?" Kris drawled, looking up at him with knowing eyes.

Adam ducked his head, rubbed the back of his neck.

"Relax, I'm just teasing. You're a natural at this." Kris squeezed his arm again and leaned closer to confide, "I don't know how you can say that line with a straight face. 'Not on my watch.' Jesus. You're fantastic."

Adam snickered and looked up, caught Kris's friendly grin. "It's the porn," he admitted. "Once you've read those lines, everything else is Shakespeare."

"Is that right? Maybe I should give it a shot some day, huh?"

The thought of Kris doing a porno actually broke Adam's brain for a second. The visual in his head would melt every DVD player in North America.

"Adam, Kris, _reset_!" Luke yelled.

Adam shared a conspiratorial grin with Kris—and when had that happened? Probably about the time Kris had swept Adam off his feet with that fucking perfect kiss—and ducked back into the cockpit.

"Action!"

Adam blew through his lines like they were obstacles between him and the finish line. Which, in this case, was Kris's lips. And twenty glorious seconds later, he was giving Kris's lower lip one last playful tug before pulling back to say his next cheesy line when Luke bellowed, "Cut! Adam, your hand is blocking the shot!"

Adam dropped his hand from Kris's cheek and called back, "Sorry!"

Kris, red-lipped and flushed, cocked a suspicious eyebrow at him and said, "Sure you are."

Adam smiled back, showing a lot of teeth.

"Reset. Everybody, reset!" Luke yelled again.

"So what do you think?" Kris asked, smoothing Adam's uniform again, his fingers lingering at Adam's belt. "Is the hundredth gonna be as bad as the first?"

Adam winked at Kris and said, "Let's find out."


End file.
